


Plan Fix Agent Washington

by Narassi



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-typical language, Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narassi/pseuds/Narassi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly stressful day of training the soldiers on Chorus, Tucker asks Carolina if Wash was always so...grumpy. Epsilon innocently wonders if they can get the "Old Wash" back.<br/>Shenanigans ensue. Wash falls into their traps and regrets everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plan Fix Agent Washington

**Author's Note:**

> This came about when I thought about the "Old Wash" from seasons 9-10 and the "New Wash" that meets the Reds and Blues. In seasons 11-13 Wash is different from those versions of himself. I think the Reds and Blues softened him up a bit.  
> I'm the only one who proofreads this, so I apologize for any mistakes.  
> Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome.

Carolina tiredly ran a hand through her flame-red hair. Training the Feds and Rebels to work with each other was exhausting. She and Wash had been working all day; training soldiers, attempting cooperative training (which failed miserably), sparring together, and finally being forced to break up a fight between Palomo and one of the Feds. Wash had taken a few stray punches and was angry beyond belief, so Carolina had sent him off while she and Tucker cleaned up the remains of the fight. Tucker had lectured Palomo, she had lectured the Fed, and both soldiers were sent to see Dr. Grey. She and Tucker were finally trekking back to the barracks. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Tucker blurted out. Carolina nearly rolled her eyes before she remembered her helmet was off, cradled against her side. Tucker had been fidgety for the last few minutes—she (and Epsilon) had known it was only a matter of time before he burst. 

“What’s wrong?” She watched from the corner of her eye as Tucker pulled his helmet off and ran a hand nervously through his hair. 

“Was Wash always like this?” Carolina blinked. 

“Like what?” She asked. 

Tucker shrugged. “I dunno. Always working. Grumpy. Harsh. You know. Wash-like.”

Carolina chuckled. “Why the sudden interest?”

Tucker shrugged again. “Back at the crash site, we got into a huge argument. Like, really huge—you guys should’ve been there!—But he mentioned something about getting a grappling hook stuck to his codpiece,” Carolina snickered at the memory. “And I wondered how the Wash I know could possibly have gotten a grappling hook stuck to his junk. I can’t picture it.”

“Is it really that hard to see?” She asked, mostly because she could see the image crystal clear in her head, as well as hear the high-pitched cry of ‘I don’t wanna end up like Georgia!’

Epsilon flickered to life between them. “I mean, I can kind of understand where he’s coming from.” The A.I. shrugged. “When we met—when Alpha met Wash, they were very tentative allies. I gathered that much from Caboose. They had to work together to bring down the Meta, but then that landed Wash in jail. When Tucker and I met Wash, we were trying to avoid him because he’d teamed up with the Meta to capture me. Not the greatest introduction in the world. Then he ended up on blue team and had to adapt to being a leader...what I’m trying to say is that we’ve only ever seen the serious side of Wash. That’s all that we’ve ever been able to see. To us, he’s a leader.”

Tucker snickered. “An obnoxious, uptight asshole of a leader, but a leader nonetheless.” he added. 

Carolina snorted. They’d reached a sort of common area that was filled with tables, and she motioned for Tucker to sit down. She sat down opposite of him. She took a deep breath before answering. “Wash was the rookie of Project Freelancer. He was the youngest, and it showed in both his actions and the way everyone else treated him.” She shrugged. “I guess you could say everyone had a soft spot for Wash. And I mean everyone.” Tucker cocked his head to the side, so she elaborated. “Maine went easy on him during training, always had his back during missions, and scared the life out of anyone who gave Wash trouble—even the other Freelancers. C.T. made it her duty to track Wash down and make sure he ate three meals a day. York occasionally smuggled sweets that were supposedly for all of us, but we all knew were for Wash. South rarely beat the living shit out of him. North covered Wash during missions as much as he covered South. Wyoming told his stupid knock-knock jokes whenever Wash was uneasy or upset. Florida randomly left little things for Wash to find—a new knife when his broke, a drive full of music, whatever he could find. And I...I guess I made sure that Wash was always assigned to a group that had either me, or Maine, or both—so we could keep track of him during a fight.” 

Tucker had a funny, wide-eyed expression on his face. “Dude, he killed South. I thought they hated each other!”

Carolina winced. “Wash never hated anyone. He was manipulated and used by the Project.” Tucker made to interrupt, but she silenced him by growling, “You think he’s obnoxious, uptight, and an asshole? He has a reason for that. He had an unstable A.I. shoved into his head, and then forcefully removed when he couldn’t handle the flashes of torture and loss. He was put into a psych ward and when he came out, most of his friends—his family—had killed each other. He was then assigned to find and destroy the bodies of those friends. South killed some of those friends, and tried to kill him. I don’t blame him for killing her; I would have done the same thing in his shoes.” She took a deep breath before continuing. 

“As I was saying, Wash was the rookie. The kid. He had this dry wit that escaped pretty often. He was clumsy and sometimes uncoordinated. The grappling hook story is just the most epic story I could tell of his little adventures—by the way, it was my grappling hook.” Tucker snorted in disbelief, and Epsilon chuckled. “Epsilon’s implantation changed him completely. I hardly recognize the Wash you know. But he’s still Wash, even if the old Wash is gone forever, and I refuse to let people hate him. He doesn’t deserve all the pain he’s been through.”

Tucker sighed. “I guess I feel a little bad about some things I said back at the crash site.” Carolina decided not to comment. 

“I wonder,” Epsilon mused, “If the old Wash is actually gone forever...Or if we could somehow manage to draw him back out—even if just for a minute.” Both looked to Carolina, who leaned back in thought for a while. 

Suddenly, Carolina leaned forward. She had an idea. “Tucker! The alien weapons we have...do you think you could recognize one if I described it to you?” 

“I dunno, maybe? I guess they all look pretty unique.” Tucker narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s big, brown—” 

“Bow chicka bow wow.”

“—I hate you—”

“I know.”

“—And has green...uh, it fires something green.” Carolina tried not to grin at the memory she had pulled up. “Don’t worry about why. I have an idea.”

Tucker thought for a moment. “Yeah, I think I saw one! I thought the green ammo part was weird, so I didn’t let anyone use it. There were only a few of them. Wanna go to the armory and see?”

Carolina nodded. “Yes. Let’s go, and quickly. I want time to plan this.” The three of them rushed off to the armory, which was quiet and empty. Donut and Lopez had already left, leaving the armory closed. No one would notice their presence or the missing gun. Tucker led her to the back of the armory where, lo and behold, four of the guns were kept. She grinned triumphantly. Poor Wash would never see this coming. 

* * * * * * 

Washington munched tiredly on his meagre rations. It was early, too early, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. After getting roughed up while trying to break up a fight the night before, Carolina had sent him off to his quarters. He’d be lucky if that rumor hadn’t made its way all the way around the encampment by now. He also knew he’d been working himself into the ground, but he couldn’t find anything better to do with his time. 

It didn’t help that he and the others had gotten so distant. Not that he’d ever been horribly close with any of the sim troopers, but he didn’t enjoy the distance. The Reds left him alone. Caboose had Epsilon and Freckles. Tucker spent time with anyone but him. And Carolina usually left him to work and train the soldiers, claiming that she left things in capable hands. 

With a soft groan, Wash stood. He put his tray on the appropriate shelf and left the cafeteria, and then made his way to the training grounds that had been set apart from the rest of the camp. He calmly began his morning routine, away from the crowds that would soon begin to swarm the cafeteria. He was in the middle of doing pushups when frantic yelling assaulted his ears. What the—

An explosion rocked the earth, and Wash twisted upwards just in time to see a teal body slam into him. Wash groaned, silently thankful he was wearing his armor. 

“Dude!” Tucker? “Get the fuck up and help me! Carolina’s gone all batshit crazy!” Carolina?

“What happened?!” Wash quickly rose to his feet to see Tucker fidgeting. 

“Uhh...Okay, I may have made a comment that she didn’t approve of, and she said she was going to kill me. I’ve been running for my life! And every time I try to get help from someone, she threatens them and they back off! Don’t let her kill me!” Tucker gestured wildly throughout his speech. The teal soldier was frantic. 

“TUCKER! GET OVER HERE!” Carolina stood in the doorway of the training area, and she looked absolutely terrifying. Tucker squeaked and ducked behind Wash, who gulped nervously. 

“Uhm, Carolina, wait a second—” Wash broke off with an audible “Oomf!” as Carolina slammed into him, sending him and Tucker flying. How did she get there so fast—oh right, Epsilon and the speed mod. His brain supplied. “Carolina! Leave him alone! If you want to beat up someone, fight me!” Carolina paused, her fist frozen in the air above Tucker. She turned to him and growled before slamming into him again, knocking him to the ground. 

Wash let his training kick in and did his best to avoid the punches and kicks that were coming so quickly, too quickly. He couldn’t dodge all of them. A punch landed on his gut, his shoulder, his jaw. He tried to get up and fight back, but to no avail. Then there was a hand grabbing at the back of his neck, where Epsilon had been implanted, and he gasped. 

He reacted out of pure instinct, jolted past the point of rational thought. He brought up a knee to dislodge the body on top of him, and rolled away. The fists followed him, so he grabbed one and pulled it to the side, using the momentum to rise into a crouch. He heard a crashing noise and saw a crate fall—where did that crate come from?—and a gun fell with it. Without thinking, Wash grabbed the gun and when he heard a noise behind him, he twisted and fired. 

Wash realized too late what he had done. He watched in horror as the green projectile he fired flew towards Carolina, who somehow managed to raise an arm to cover her face before it hit her. Wash started to scream—“NO!”—as Carolina was hit, only to freeze when it bounced off of her and exploded against the wall to his right. For a moment it was silent. Wash barely registered the sounds of other people gathering, watching, as he stared at the wall where the thing had exploded. 

“It bounces?!” He nearly shrieked, “Who makes a gun that bounces?!” He glanced back at Carolina. “This is still the worst gun, ever. Of all time.” 

Carolina reached over to the fallen crate between them and pulled out another of the guns. Wash squeaked and flinched when she aimed it at him and fired. Something heavy hit his shoulder and bounced off. They both watched as it exploded on the other side of the room. “Which do you prefer?” Carolina asked, “This or the grappling hook?”

“What—hey!” Wash sputtered, “This! No grappling hooks allowed!”

Carolina laughed. “Then I guess you’d better run. I don’t plan on going easy on you.” She aimed the gun at him again. 

Wash yelped and dove behind the crate. He then aimed the gun at the far wall, grinning to himself as it bounced up to the ceiling and then back towards him to explode against the crate. He and the crate went flying—and so did Carolina, he noticed with satisfaction—and he landed with it on top of his legs. Carolina shot him in the side of the head—ow, that hurt!—so he shot her square in the chest. Suddenly she was standing above him with the gun aimed directly at him. 

“Ack—don’t shoot!” Wash raised his arms defensively in front of his face and closed his eyes, waiting for the shot. Nothing came. When he dared open his eyes, Carolina had removed her helmet and was...laughing? 

“Are you okay?” She knelt next to him. “I didn’t expect you to get the hang of the gun so quickly. Or for you to hit yourself in order to hit me.” 

Epsilon flickered to life. “My scan shows that he’s fine. He’ll probably have a few bruises from your punches and the crate, but nothing serious.”

Carolina nodded. “Good.” She shoved the crate off of Wash and helped him up. Wash noticed that a crowd had gathered by the two entrances to the training grounds. The reds and Caboose were at the front. “Hey, Wash?” Carolina waved her hand in his face to grab his attention. “Did you ever figure out what happened to Georgia?” 

Wash snapped his head to face her. “No! What the hell ever happened to Georgia?!” 

Carolina winked and replaced her helmet. “Never mind. Sorry for bringing it up. You really don’t want to know.” 

Wash sputtered for a moment. “I really do, though!” He whined. 

Carolina shrugged. “Look, it’s a long and unsavory story. It’s the reason we tried not to use jetpacks and attempted to install waste removal in the helmets.” 

“...Waste removal?” Tucker piped up from behind Carolina. 

Wash narrowed his eyes. “Hey, wait a second...” It suddenly snapped, and he realized what Carolina was trying to do. “Liar!” He scowled. She was trying to bait him, to get him angry by bringing up old conflicts. “You are such an asshole.” He declared. He heard but ignored the gasp that sounded from the doorways. “Please don’t tell me you had Jensen drive a car over here? Because I really don’t think I can handle a car right now. Or a grappling hook. And—would you please just tell me what happened to Georgia?!” 

“Who’s Georgia?” That was Grif. “And...what happened to them?”

Carolina turned slightly. “Georgia was a Freelancer. And I’m telling you, you don’t want to know!” She paused. “But I might tell you, Wash, if you can brave my speed mod and grappling hook.”

“What are you talking about?” There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Wash’s stomach. 

“Catch me if you can!” With that, Carolina was gone. They watched her speed off, deeper into the encampment. Wash knew he’d be hard pressed to find her. He scowled fiercely underneath his helmet. 

“Umm...” Grif again. “What the fuck just happened?” 

Wash grabbed the gun. “Carolina just signed herself up for an ass-kicking.” He growled. 

“Wash...no offense, but I’m not sure you can exactly kick Carolina’s ass...I’m pretty sure you’d die trying, just like the rest of us.” That was Tucker. 

Wash secured the gun on his back. “Watch me.” 

“Wash, please, don’t go after her.” Kimball strode up to him. “I can’t have one of the best fighters here taken out of commission—” 

“Oh, I won’t be.” Wash interrupted. 

“Please. I think you really pissed her off, and we all know she fights harder when she’s angry.” Kimball put her hands on her hips. 

“Wait, you think I made her angry? How?” Wash cocked his head to the side. 

Kimball did the same. “Um, by calling her an asshole and a liar?”

Wash froze and blinked. And then, to Kimball and the crowd’s confusion, he laughed. “She’d never get mad at me for that! I’ve done it a million times before, she has be immune to it by now.”

Tucker tore off his helmet. “You’ve called her an asshole before?! When?!” 

Wash thought for a moment. “I haven’t since the MoI crashed, so since before the Project broke apart. I seem to remember being in a falling Pelican and her telling me to throw up inside my helmet.”

Tucker blinked. “Why would you throw up?”

“Have you ever been inside a Pelican falling straight downward from 75,000 feet?” Wash asked. 

“Uh...thankfully, no.” Tucker paled a little. 

“Then you really wouldn’t understand.” Wash said dryly. “Now if you don’t mind, I really need to figure out what the hell happened to Georgia.” Wash ran through the crowd in the direction Carolina had sprinted in. He was going to find out what the hell happened to Georgia, dammit!

“Um...” Vanessa Kimball watched the grey and yellow freelancer disappear. “Would someone mind telling me what just happened?”

Tucker snickered. “The plan worked, that’s what happened!”

She turned to him warily. “What plan?”

Tucker just winked. “Oh, nothing to worry about. We should really just relax and enjoy the show!” 

* * * * * *

Hours later, Tucker grinned triumphantly. Wash was sprawled out on his bed, thoroughly exhausted from the day’s events. The sim troopers, Wash, and Carolina all shared a crowded room filled with bunks. There wasn’t much room in the camp, so spreading out the living quarters was nearly impossible. The Reds and Blues were currently scattered around the room, warily watching the two ex-freelancers. Wash had, after all, just kicked Tucker’s ass in a short fight that ended when Wash tripped and fell into his own bed. The fight had started when Wash figured out that the whole day had been carefully planned for him, and that he had fallen into every single one of Carolina and Tucker’s traps, which Tucker listed in his head. 

First the fight with a not-really-angry Carolina. Then the bouncy-gun fight. Then the three-hour chase that ended with Wash dangling from the cafeteria roof with Carolina’s grappling hook attached to his foot. Then a break for lunch. Then the constant pestering by Tucker (and Grif, though that hadn’t been planned) to tell what happened to Georgia, which made Wash redouble his efforts to catch Carolina. Then Jensen drove a car into the area where Wash and Carolina just happened to be fighting—yes, Wash predicted it—so that Wash got hit by a car. Again. And then Wash gave up, ate a small dinner, and came back to their room, where Tucker asked ‘How was your day? Carolina and I worked hard to make sure you’d, uh, enjoy it’. The grey and yellow freelancer had barely even growled before swinging around to punch him. 

“Are you okay, Wash?” Tucker teased. 

“Fuck you.” Came the muffled reply. The rest of the sim troopers froze—likely waiting for another attack—but Tucker just laughed. 

“If he can still sass, he’s fine.” Carolina also laughed as she sat next to him. “Sorry you’ll probably be sore tomorrow. I made sure you have the day off, though. Catch up on sleep and I’ll handle things.” Wash mumbled something unintelligible. Carolina and Tucker shared a grin before Carolina turned back to Wash and began to work out some of the tension in his back and shoulders. That was the last plan for the day—force Wash to relax under the pretense of Carolina’s guilt so that he’d actually fall asleep. 

The rest of the sim troopers relaxed as the immediate danger passed, and they slowly crashed in their own bunks to go to sleep. Tucker watched Carolina and Wash from his own bunk. Carolina winked at Tucker and began to draw her fingers through Wash’s hair. Tucker raised a brow, but remained silent as he watched Wash visibly melt further into the mattress at the contact. Carolina continued until she was sure he was asleep. 

“Make sure he stays here in the morning,” She whispered, “And thank you. I think we really helped. Get some sleep.”

Tucker nodded. “I’m glad it worked,” He whispered back, “I just hope he doesn’t fade back to grumpy-Wash in the morning.” He kicked off his boots and tucked himself into his bunk. Wash still hadn’t moved from where he lay on his stomach. Tucker smiled. He liked this new Wash. This Wash was funny, and...well, not a total asshole. 

And he couldn’t wait to see Wash’s reaction when he realized that there was candy underneath his pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr! agentfrecklelancer.tumblr.com


End file.
